I Never Blamed You
by skychylde
Summary: Perhaps it is time for the next great adventure. Just a little ficlett showing the last remaning moments of the life of Harry Potter.


I Never Blamed You

The halls of Hogwarts were always so very quiet between terms. The large stone structure was bound with so many spells and enchantments that not even a stray gust of wind could enter without its leisure. It was in this quietness that Harry Potter found plenty of time for reflection over the years. Yes reflection as well as guilt.

He didn't believe that he was ever qualified to be Headmaster of this school. He tried his hardest to emulate it but he always felt like he fell short according to one outsider's opinion or another. He managed to live nearly as long as his predecessor's predecessor, a sparse one hundred and forty years. He had his Orders of Merlin and also served as Chief of the Wizenmott. At least he did until he resigned a few years ago. Dumbledore would have stayed at that post until his death, had it not been preplanned. Knowing his old teacher Harry was sure he would have lived to two hundred just to spite conventional measures.

His elevation to Headmaster was unanimous nearly seventy years ago. He still to this day felt like he got the job mostly due to this 'Savior' rubbish and not based on his time as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. That was just the way Harry was, forever modest even at the cost of his own livelihood. Perhaps it wasn't so much modesty as it was guilt; guilt that he succeeded by walking over the graves of those that came before him. Far too many people to count, good people who should have been here. He always thought they would have been here if not for their association with him.

Yes the hallowed halls of the school often made Harry think about these things. Tonight however was the last time he would think about this, tonight he wagered it was time for an adventure.

He stood up from his desk; the same that Dumbledore and McGonagall used before him and gave a curt nod to the various snoozing Headmasters of years past. He moved over to Dumbledore's portrait, trying not to wake him, and stared into it. He had done a good job emulating the old man. He had grown his beard long and white with age. His large but plain glasses of the past were now rested in a similar manner as the headmaster's were, his mother's green eyes replacing the twinkling blue spheres of his mentored. His robes were distinctly Gryffindor, plush red with gold accents that covered him from head to toe. Yes he had done a good job making people think he was as good as Dumbledore.

"Never quite got there though," he whispered to no one in particular. He gave a small smile to his mentor and took a small beaded bag from the desk before exiting the office. It was time for him to have a new adventure. He had been feeling it for weeks, the magic that was allowing him to live past conventional muggles was giving out. It was common knowledge that people of great magical quality tended to live long lives, their vast magical stores keeping their heart and minds going well beyond their twilight years. Harry had lived a long time, longer then everyone else he knew. It was his time and in a way he was glad for it.

It was, of course, Hermione who went about deconstructing why certain wizards were able to live very long lives and others were not. They had started out trying to reverse engineer the spell that had prevented the cursed ring from killing Dumbledore. It took ages looking through Professor Snape's private books and writings to find it out. It was based on the magic that coursed through ever witch and wizard, the fundamental aspect that separated them from muggles. The spell was placed on the body's magic and centered on the wound. It bent the magic back onto itself, accelerating its natural ability to repair and sustain the cells of the body.

In effect Dumbledore's own magic was being in constant use trying to repair what the curse was destroying. It was only a temporary fix though, as the curse was designed to grow in strength exponentially and eventually it would have rotted all of his body. Every great spell he caste reduced the effectiveness of the spell. He was a marked man even with this landmark work of magic.

It was through this knowledge that Harry and Hermione were able to approximate who, baring illness or injury, would die in what order in their group. It was almost a game, a very sad game, for Hermione. It was with this knowledge that Harry sat behind his desk, first as DADA teacher later as headmaster, and watched as his friends die one by one. It was through their researched that he also knew that now as his time. He could feel the energy that has sustained him for so long gradually erode. In a strange way he could almost feel each cell begin to die. It was finally time.

He closed to gargoyle entrance, the magic of the headmasters office would inform the board of his passing eventually. He had no desire to leave a long annotated good bye note or even a will. Most of his belongings were either tied to the school or donated to various organizations over the course of the years. Despite his reluctance to be placed at this job the school truly was his life and home for many years now. The vaults at Gringots would know which of his children and grandchildren would get his money. Both the Potter and the Black family vaults were spread out among his children ages ago and to his grandchildren through them. He was content all matters were handled. Now all that was left was to say goodbye to Hogwarts proper.

His initial wonderings took him to the room of requirements. He had not had a need to open the door for nearly a decade and had long since lost interest in figuring out how its magic worked. He simply looked at it, lost in his memories. A Horcrux had been destroyed here, the room that it was stored in forever scared by Fiendfyre. They weren't even able to recover the body of the responsible party because there was so much wreckage. It did hold some good memories though. His time as leader of the DA, his talks with Neville and of course his summers spent after he got the DADA position he spent here in 'The Beach' room. Harry moved his hand over the entrance steeling his resolve not to open the door again. He could very well just escape to the room and live his last few moments in paradise but he still had some things to do.

His journey down the halls of Hogwarts prompted new memories. His various duels, spell damage from the battle at Hogwarts were still on some of the stone archways. Of course there was till "A good bit of magic" left on the floor in tribute to the Weasly Twins.

His old DADA office was his next stop. He remembered the day he accepted the job with upmost clarity. He was injured on the job and after two decades of dedicated work as an Auror the ministry had determined that the damage to his leg, a limp, was too great for an active Auror. He spent months angrily doing desk work, lamenting on his bad luck when McGonagall came to him with the offer of the post. He jokingly asked it was still cursed, only to be rebuffed stating that the current retiring professor was leaving after fifteen years of service with his life, limbs and mind intact. It was the general opinion now that the curse on the DADA position died with its caster. After a long yelling match McGonagall ended it by asking if he was truly happy sitting behind a desk approving other Auror's reports and being the ministry's old war horse. She left his office after placing a sheet of parchment on his desk, likely furnished by Hermione, the list of the DA class he taught in the Room of Requirements. Next to their names was an account of what they were doing now, how they were successful. He did not know if it was pride or arrogance to assume he had a role in their success but he owled McGonagall saying yes and submitted his resignation from the ministry that afternoon.

He spent many years in this classroom and the office in the back. He remembered teaching dozens of students in the NEWT levels that would go on to become some of the most gifted Aurors of their respected generations. He remembered teaching first years how to disarm a hostile target and showing the third years how fear is not something that should control you with the help of a buggart.

He was also here when he got a frantic call from Hermione saying Ron had been killed in action on a potion lab raid gone wrong. He was here when Ginny told him she was sick. Their marriage had never been the most stable, both too proud to allow the other to be in control but he did love her with all his heart. She passed away a few months later surrounded by their three kids and many grandkids. Those two were the only ones to die out of order, something Hermione bitterly told Harry at Ginny's funeral. He supposed in a way, making logical and cold was a way Hermione coped in the years after Ron's death.

Unable to bear the weight of his memories, too many years of memories he turned his back on the room and headed for his final destination. The floors were wet of course even though the halls have been deserted since the leaving fest nearly a month ago. Myrtle always was one for dramatics and her frantic moans and tantrums sill affected this bathroom nearly two hundred years after her death.

She was floating back and forth near the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets as was the norm but upon seeing Harry her features became even more remorseful. Ghost had a sense about death and most of the ghost had been urging Harry to see a mediwizard for nearly a year already. As the master of their school they were required to keep their mouth shut about his health but that didn't stop the Grey Lady from nightly visiting the aged headmaster in his office to see to his well being. Myrtle was no different in this aspect. She rarely saw Harry but immediately upon seeing him her frown became even more prominent on her translucent face.

"Hello Myrtle," Harry managed to say with a slight wheeze.

Myrtle steadied herself a bit and tried to smile. "Harry it's been ages. You never visit me anymore I was afraid you had forgotten I was here."

"Never forget, just too many children running around needing my attention is all." Harry wasn't really looking at her but instead at the entrance behind her. He tried his best to casually walk around the ghost and placed his withered hands on the symbol of Salazar. The talent for conversing with snakes was lost after his destruction of the Dark Lord but he still retained a slight echo of the skill, a type of mental muscle memory if you will. He tried his best to hiss "Open" and was rewarded with the tell tale signs of the entrance transforming around him.

"Your fate was as tied to this chamber, as mine was, wasn't it?" Harry asked as he peered into the darkness. "The monster within killed you, allowing Voldemort to create his Horcrux and then you showed me where the entrance was. I destroyed that Horcrux, a portion of a man's soul that night. Why do you still haunt here if your murder has been avenged?"

She looked like she was about to answer but stopped. It had never really occurred to her before. She thought that she haunted this place because the ministry had ordered her back. She had never thought that she wanted some resolution and if her death had been truly avenged why didn't she leave for the next world. "I don't know Harry. I guess in a way Tom and I are the same. I've been around for so long like this I fear what is beyond. You know ghost don't get to see if there is a beyond. If we imprint ourselves after death we return at the moment of death, never seeing what is beyond the veil."

Her voice wasn't girly at all anymore when she spoke. Harry knew she was speaking sincerely and not as an imprint of a young teenage girl. He smiled sadly when she spoke of being scared and thought of his mentor's often repeated view on death and the next adventure.

"Well if you won't pass on may I ask you a favor?" asked Harry.

"Anything Harry," she said quietly.

"Once I go down there I am going to seal the chamber. Will you please be its guardian in my absence? This chamber is a relic of the past, a relic we no longer need. I suppose in a way I feel that way about myself, an old warhorse who is of no relevance to the current world. No more myths about the monster in the maze or the Boy Who Lived. Just let it fade out of living memory if you could."

"You really were quite brave Harry," Myrtle said back. "Bravery is not doing foolish things. Bravery is knowing you are about to face adversity, hardship and woe but doing it anyway. It not for your own sake but for the sake of your family, friends or country. Sir Nickolas told me that once, but I never understood it until I had met you Harry. No other kid would have kept going as you did. So at least I think you were a hero even if you did not."

"Yeah I was a hero, by stepping on the bones of those that died for me. Goodbye Myrtle and remember keep it secret." With that Harry descended the chamber. His joints whined as he touched down on the long dead remains of rats. He had no idea how Dumbledore had managed to fight Tom with such agility and rigor at an even older age. His body would have been screaming at him at a hundred if he dared to that. Of course Harry might have been the strongest of his friends magic wise, he proved that by producing a Patronus capable of dispatching hordes of Dementors when he was just a child, but he was not in the same league as Dumbledore or even Tom Riddle.

People lauded him as powerful and mighty but he knew that his power and knowledge only came with age and maturity. People like Dumbledore were the real power houses. Harry was just Harry. A little stronger than your average wizard who always managed to do the right thing most of the time.

As he progressed through the chamber he noticed the spell damage from Lockhart's memory charm. They never did get his head fixed correctly but Harry didn't really care. He was a fraud and deserved all he got and more. He saw the true opening to chamber just ahead and hissed it open. Shutting it behind him he conjured the strongest charm he could, sealing the passage for hopefully all posterity.

The chamber had remained untouched for over a hundred years. Neither he, his friends nor any of the teaching staff had the desire to go down here. The large statue of Salazar Syltherin stood before him, the skeletal remains of the Basilisk behind him. He stepped into the mouth where the basilisk once slept. He put up several lighting charms and summoned some of the monsters bones to him. He used them as raw materials to conjure up several bookshelves. He placed them haphazardly around the small chamber and then got out his beaded bag. He pulled book after book from the bag, too many for such a small bag to every contain. He never did ask Hermione how she put this all together but he was grateful nonetheless. The shelves were filled with books he had accumulated over the years. He had spent decades scouring the Earth for any reference to a single word: Horcrux.

He did all he could to secure those books. He wanted to make sure that no one thought to desecrate their soul like that again. All those that knew of it besides him had already died before him and now the secret would die with him. The final book he place on the shelves was a worn and tattered journal with a giant hole in the middle. He hated that journal with a passion but he knew that it had to be kept safe down here less some witch or wizard find a way to reverse engineer the Horcrux.

Summoning some more bones from the snake he transfigured them into a display case with spaces for five objects. Pulling them out of his bag he placed the Locket and Ring from the Gaunts on either far end. The cup and diadem were next and last he put the sword of Godric Gryffindor in the center. Now the relics of the founders would be sealed down here, never to be used as leverage for the purebloods again. The hat would remain in his office as it was necessary for the sorting but he hoped that there would never be a need to summon the sword ever again.

His next task proved the be almost too great for him. He almost faltered conjuring a pedestal in the middle of the chamber. He could feel the magic keeping blood pumping start to fail. It was only through the knowledge that this needed to be done that he continued. He produced a wand but not a one of Holly and Phoenix Feather. No this one contained the hair of Telstra.

He remembered desecrating his mentor's tomb trying to get this wand back soon after his leg was injured. He realized that he had to use it, to defeat anyone who challenged him less they obtain access to the wand and wand has ways to finding its way to its new owner. He never felt more drained than after breaking open the pure white tomb and taking the wand from the headmaster's corpse.

He looked at it for a moment, content that its power would die with him. His life after accepting the position at Hogwarts was relatively peaceful and he never had a need to duel seriously with it. He also took great care not to lose a duel to a student less he pull a Draco on himself.

He placed it on the pedestal. He kneeled down and used his real wand to cut the mark of the Hallows into the pedestal along with an indentation. In that indentation he placed a small stone, one that took him nearly a decade to find again. The third Hallow was not present though as he had continued the Paravell tradition and passed it down through his children. He did not want to risk all the Hallows falling into the hands of anyone who might manage to break into the chamber.

Content that his chores were done, his bag empty for the first time in decades, he took a deep breath and brushed his fingers over the Death Stone. His vision was then covered by pure white light.

Harry wondered if this was truly death. He figured he would be at Kings Cross again or some symbolic rubbish like that. No train, no empty boarding terminals just pure white for as long as he could see. Maybe he was meant to stay at this limbo, his other death being his true death and now he was denied an afterlife. He frowned at that thought but was started by a voice.

"I never blamed you, not once."

Harry spun around to see the young, seventeen year old face of Sirius Black. He wore a wide grin and showed no sign of the years he spent at Azkaban. Why should he? The man was seventeen again. "None of us did" came a rush of noise as the white room was filled with his friends and loved ones, preserved in their prime just as they were in his memories.

"Is this the stone?" asked Harry.

"You always knew more about The Deathly Hallows then anything I could find in a book. Tell me Harry, does it feel like the stone?" It was Hermione, a seventeen year old Hermione with her beaded bag at her side. At her side was Ron with his flaming red hair and boyish face. "We all waited for you mate."

"After all you did for everyone we couldn't stand that for you to make the journey alone. So as we all passed on we waited here for you," this time it was Remus. No longer the sullen face beaten man he knew in the last years of his life, he stood tall and strong with a pink haired Tonks next to him. Harry shed a tear and held his hands over their clasped hands. He continued through the crowd, everyone he met joining up in step behind him. He saw the stern but loving McGonagall with a young Hagrid by her side. He had a newly hatched Arragog crawling around on his shoulder.

Luna gave him a lopsided smile, her unusual beet earrings swinging from side to side. Fred, George and Author Weasly all three slapped him on the back, Fred mentioning something to the effect of 'about time.' Molly gave him a back breaking hug and soaked his cloak with tears. Neville gave him a curt nod, his prized plant nodding in unison with him. Harry always smiled when he saw that man together with one of his original plants. Near the end of the trail of friends and family he saw her, his lovely wife Ginny.

She was as beautiful as the day he married her. He ran to her as fast as he could, not hiding the tears he shed on her green robes. "I told the kids to go on ahead," she said between her own muffled tears. "I missed you Harry."

"Oh god Gin, I missed you so much. So much I never got to say."

"Shh relax we have time for all that. There is someone who wants to see you."

He lifted his tear stained face to see his mentor, Albus, standing away from the rest of the crowd. He walked over to his old teacher gave him the same awkward smile he would give him when he was a student. "Back again Harry?"

It was a question he was asked sometime in his first year at Hogwarts. For some reason it never occurred to him to use that mirror in his entire tenure at Hogwarts. "I did what I said I would do Professor. Did I do good?"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes exploded into a million sparkles as he stared at his pupil. "After all you've done do you still need this old man to tell you if it was all good in the end? Yes Harry, all that you did in your life was good. But are you happy with it all in the end.

Harry turned to see his friends and family. They seemed oblivious to the conversation going on between to the two. He thought of the friends he made, the family he lost and the surrogate family he had with the Weaslys. Memories of losses and loves came rushing through, achievements and failures and most importantly all the lives he was proud to have touched and to have touched him in return. He turned to his headmaster and simplified it with "Yes."

"That is all anyone can ask of ourselves in the end. So Harry, are you ready this time for the next grand adventure?"

Harry reached back and grabbed Ginny's hand, stunned to realize for at that moment his hand was no longer wrinkled and worn compared to hers. He was young again, seventeen by the looks of it. He gripped her hand tight and said to Ginny and to everyone else: "Let's go Home."


End file.
